White & Red
by FishInTheSea
Summary: Kyle has a serious mental breakdown after watching Christophe be murdered. Rated M to be safe, lots of violence and some language.


So, hi there.  
This is definitely not my first fan fiction...but, it is my first to be uploaded on the internet.  
I've been told I need to stop being a perfectionist and hide my work because it's not the best. xD

There's hinted pairings, but it's most definitely not romance. If you're hoping for cuddles and kisses, go back while you still can. ; 3;

* * *

Snow was falling in thick, sticky clumps around the redhead…his eyes fixed on the entrance to the high school parking lot. The sun was slowly going down when a red car pulled up close. Stanley Marsh was in the drivers seat, looking with concern at his best friend.

"Kyle, get in the car. He's not coming."

"…Fuck you, Stan." Kyle raised his gloved hands to his eyes and let out a sob, his warm tears felt like fire against his freezing cheeks.

With a sigh, Stan put his car in neutral and got out, walking to his friend and wrapping his arms tight around the other boy.

"I…I still see him, Stan…"

"No you don't, Kyle…It's been a week…I know it's hard, but…You can't do this. You're freezing out here. Have you really been standing here since school got out? Ike was worried and asked me to come get you…"

"Y-Yeah…Ike…" Kyle shook. "Nice to hear my parents still don't care."

Stan sighed heavily, his icy breath dispersing in the atmosphere. "Come on, let's go home." Stan grabbed Kyle's hand and led him over to his car, opening the passenger side door and letting Kyle crawl in stiffly. He rushed around to the driver's seat, and took Kyle back to his lonely apartment.

After Kyle's parents found out he was gay, they kicked him out. He moved in with his boyfriend, Christophe DeLorn, and after much protest from the French boy's mother, he decided to just get their own apartment. Christophe had millions of dollars from his…particular line of work anyway. Although he barely spent it…The clothes he wore were often full of holes. The only thing he seemed to spend regular money on was cigarettes, and…occasionally, a new car. He had about three already, each more expensive than the next. The convertible was Kyle's favorite, but Christophe preferred his sleek black sports car. He called it the Badassery Mobile.

But, he would do anything for Kyle; so fishing out a few thousand for an apartment was nothing. They needed furniture, dishes, and other comforts Christophe definitely wouldn't let Kyle go without.

So although the two were still in high school, they were living on their own, supporting themselves, and basically living like a real couple. Kyle loved it; being able to consider the place he cuddled and loved his mercenary 'home'.

Kyle was in complete bliss, there was no way something could go wrong…So when he walked in to find Christophe pinned against a wall with a gun to his head, Kyle spiraled into terror.

"Kyle." Christophe said calmly. "I need vous to go right now, okay?"

"Christophe, what's going on?" Kyle's eyes darted quickly between his French lover and the gunman.

"…Just go, Kyle."

"So Frenchie's a fag?" The gunman laughed, and Christophe growled threateningly. "Well, I can't keep my client waiting." And without another word, the trigger was pulled, and Kyle cried out, eyes wide with panic. What just happened? Surely it wasn't real…it was a dream, right?

But it wasn't, and Kyle could tell by the terrible nausea growing in his stomach. He ran to Stan's house, where he passed out.

When he woke up, his apartment had been cleaned; it was like nothing happened… And once again Kyle wondered if it was a dream. However, when he woke up the next morning, cold and alone, it finally sunk in. He curled up in a ball and sobbed for hours.

* * *

That weekend, Cartman went missing. Dropped off the face of the earth, and while Officer Barbrady investigated the crime, he went missing as well.

South Park barely noticed, Officer Barbrady couldn't really be considered a cop anyway, and nobody but Cartman's mother cared about the fatass. After she had made an uproar to the mayor about finding her son, she went missing, too.

* * *

So today was Kyle's first day back from school. It was obvious Kyle was showing signs of severe mental trauma…but who could blame him? He watched the only person he truly loved get murdered point-blank.

The drive back to Kyle's apartment was long and awkward. Kyle refused to stay the night anywhere else, otherwise Stan would have offered that Kyle stay with him. It had to be lonely, up there alone.

But Kyle would have it no other way. Christophe had left everything to Kyle…apparently it was customary for mercenary's to update their will often, in case something DID go wrong. Kyle laughed at the concept…Christophe couldn't die.

* * *

"Bye, Kyle." Stan frowned as his best friend crawled out of the passenger seat and onto the snow-covered parking lot. The redhead was in a daze, his eyes blank.

"Yeah…bye, Stan. See you at school tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Saturday…do you want to hang out…or something?"

"…No…" Kyle shut the car door and turned, shivering as he walked up to his apartment.

* * *

One by one, the people of South Park began to disappear.

No one knew what was going on, no bodies were found, there were no possible suspects, no leads or anything. Search dogs were brought in, but no one knew if they found anything because shortly after arriving, their handlers went missing.

Rumors ripped through the schools, and many people left the town. Stan was heading over to Kyle's house to tell his friend the bad news… The Marsh family was packing up to leave South Park too, and Stan's parents agreed to take Kyle along with them.

"Kyle…?" Stan opened Kyle's apartment door, and cringed at the sight of the room. Everything was trashed, and what appeared to be blood covered nearly every surface. His stomach flopped as he was suddenly overcome with such an obvious theory that should have come to him first.

His fears were pretty much solidified when he saw the bloody shovel lying on the kitchen floor. Nauseous, he threw himself at the sink and puked, but cringed back at the sight of the blood there, too. He held his stomach as he convulsed, disgusted and terrified.

The door to the apartment slammed shut, and he spun around, his heart sinking at the sight of Kyle, dragging a screaming and flailing girl behind by her hair.

"Wendy!!" Stan yelled, "Damn it, Kyle, let her go! You're the one…"

"It took you so long, Stan." Kyle's eyes were different now, still dark and empty, but a flash of anger made them seem absolutely terrifying, opposed to the hurt animal look he had weeks before. "How many people are left, Stan…? Twenty, thirty? I'm proud your family stuck around so long. I was saving you for last anyway…" He flashed a smile that sent shivers down Stan's spine. "My own family would have been next if they hadn't turned tail and run after the dog handlers went missing."

"Kyle, what the fuck, what are you doing?!"

"S-Stan, help me…" Wendy sobbed, her scalp bleeding from Kyle's firm grip on her hair.

"Wendy, stay quiet, please…" Stan's voice was startlingly comforting, and Wendy's cries were softened.

"…I don't know, Stan." Kyle's green eyes were locked firmly to Stan's. "I just had this…craving to kill so bad after losing Christophe. Cartman crossed my path and pissed me off…and I just couldn't hold myself back. After killing him, it became somewhat of an obsession. If I didn't kill at least one every day, I felt I would lose my mind."

"Looks like you've already lost it." Stan glared, looking from Kyle to Wendy, and then scanning his surroundings for a way out of the apartment.

"I don't need to hear it, Stan. Do you have any idea what it was like to WATCH the person you love get murdered?! His blood was everywhere, Stan…" Kyle began to hyperventilate as he remembered the day.

"Kyle, I can help you get over this…" Stan pleaded. "Let Wendy go, she doesn't have anything to do with this."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, STAN!" Before Stan could react, Kyle had grabbed the bloody shovel on the ground, holding it dangerously close to Wendy's neck. "You say one more word, and she's dead as Christophe."

Stan's heart raced as he saw the terrified look on Wendy's face. He knew Kyle was serious…he'd killed hundreds of people already. One more girl wasn't going to affect his conscience any more than swatting a bug.

Kyle readjusted his grip on Wendy's hair, and she whimpered as the redhead dragged her over to the living room. Stan followed slowly and cautiously, and panicked as Kyle stood over his girlfriend of ten years, his shovel raised high, pointed straight down at Wendy's throat. She fidgeted and whimpered, too afraid to try and move.

"Kyle!" Stan yelled, running towards his ex-best friend. Without blinking, Kyle thrust down on the shovel, and after a sickening crunch and squishing sound, Stan crumpled to the floor in a sobbing heap. "GOD DAMN IT, KYLE. I HATE YOU." He screamed, straightening up and punching Kyle in the jaw. The redhead flinched back before swinging the sharpened shovel, hitting the black-haired boy in the arm.

Crying out in pain, Stan staggered back, closing his eyes as they wandered towards the bloody mess on the living room floor.

Kyle swung the shovel again, this time hitting Stan hard on the head. He fell to the ground and screamed in pain as he felt the metal through his torso. Kyle looked down at the boy below him, who was whimpering in pain and slowly losing blood.

"…If you see Christophe up there…will you tell him I'm sorry?" Kyle smiled softly, and Stan choked, unable to speak, unable to think. Everything was going dark, and the last thing he saw was Kyle smiling, covered from head to toe in blood, showing no sign of emotion or guilt.

It was Kenny who heard Stan's screams. The rest of the apartment complex had been emptied, and the poor boy had taken advantage of the abandoned rooms to stay warm. He ran as quickly as he could to Kyle's apartment, and threw open the door just in time to see Kyle kick the chair out from underneath himself and hear the sickening crack of the redhead's neck.

* * *

Let me know what you think? ;3

I CAN TAKE THE CRITICISM!


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